Life Will Go On
by RynAnn
Summary: FutureFic. Adult!Gyda & Athelstan. Before he leaves for Gotland, Ragnar marries Gyda off to the prince of Burgundy. When she returns home after 10 years, she finds that much has changed, especially Athelstan.
1. The Departure

_She was never sure what their relationship had been. She had never seen him as a father-figure, nor a brother, nor a slave. He was simply Athelstan, a stranger who became a friend. He lived in their home, ate with them, told them the stories of his people and eagerly drank up the stories of theirs. She remembered those days fondly. It was so long ago, the last time they were all together. The day she left..._

They were on the shore, facing the sea and the boat that would take her away. Papa had been strong, and placed a tender kiss on her forehead, but avoided her gaze. "I will you visit you soon," he murmured softly. Though it was not obvious to all, Gyda could see the guilt in his eyes. It was his fault, after all. As his empire grew, sacrifices had to be made to keep it. Gyda was one such sacrifice. Ragnar's daughter would wed the son of Lothair, King of Burgundy. She remembered how Mama had screamed and yelled and _hit_, pummeling Papa's beautiful face until blood dripped from her knuckles. But the deal was done, there was nothing Mama could do to change it.

Lagertha stood tall, her chin jutted out in defiance. Her eyes were hard and only softened when they rested upon her daughter. As Gyda fell into her mother's embrace she felt thin strong arms squeeze her. It was almost painful, but Gyda would have gladly stayed in Lagertha's hug for the rest of her days. They had spoken their goodbyes earlier, and Gyda knew it so that her mother can retain her dignity. This was not a private sendoff; all of Kattegat stood on the shore, ready to say goodbye. Lagertha released her daughter and gently stroked her cheek.

As she turned to her brother, Gyda was surprised to see his eyes watering. Bjorn might have pulled her hair and rolled his eyes at lack of veracity, but she never doubted his devotion to her. He gripped her shoulders tightly and awkwardly pulled her to him, and gently whispered in her ear, "If you're husband is mean to you, I will kill him."

Gyda smiled for the first time that day, surprised yet grateful for her brother's open show of affection. "Even though you are a man now, let Mama hold you once in while," she whispered back. Bjorn nodded, understanding why she said it.

Rollo scooped her up in a bear hug and sloppily kissed both cheeks. "Be happy, little one." Gyda nodded. She knew her uncle was a difficult man, who was capable of great violence, but she loved him nonetheless. She remembered sitting on his lap as a little girl, giggling uncontrollably as he told silly stories. With a pang in her heart, she wondered if she would ever laugh again.

Gyda heard the seer clear his throat behind her, but she was not ready. There was one more person she needed to say goodbye too. Athelstan stood a few feet away, behind Bjorn. Only family stood apart on days like these, and Athelstan, however he was treated, was still a slave. She walked towards him and saw his hardened expression soften. They had not seen each other that morning. Athelstan, because he was occupied with his duties and Gyda because she did not get out of bed until absolutely necessary. She had been reluctant to start the day.

"You will be a good queen, someday," He assured her.

"Like Esther?" she asked shakily.

He smiled, genuinely, lovingly. "You are stronger and braver." Athelstan sucked in a deep breath, "Little Gyda," he said softly. "You have been my strength." And she had. Her acceptance and treatment of him had given him hope that his life would improve, that everything happened for a reason. Her willingness to hear his stories had provided him with an outlet and her gentle nature comforted him in times of despair.

His confession broke her. The tears began to fall and her chin quivered. She threw her arms around his neck and squeezed. Gyda thought back to when her father brought Athelstan to them. At the time, she could have only imagined his fear, his uncertainty, his sense of loss. Standing on beach today, she understood it. That was her now.

"And you will be mine," she whispered. "I will remember your strength and your stories. Always."

And with that she let go and walked to the boat with her head held high. The seer placed his hands over her head and murmured words that she did not care to hear, about family, honor, and bearing sons.

She sat down and faced the sea, determined not to look back. Around her, men yelled instructions, and as they sailed away, she murmured,

"I am like Athelstan. I will survive."

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed part one! I should probably mention that this isn't historically accurate, what with the King of Burgundy and everything. A little creative license on my part ;)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters.**


	2. 10 years gone

**A/N: A big thank you to FireChildSlytherin5, Arwyn T, , and xtheinnocentguiltx for your kind words :)**

It had been ten long years since that day…since she had been home. After all this time, she still considered it her home.

Gyda brushed her blonde waves out of her face with a slight tremor in her fingers. So much had changed. She was a woman of twenty-three, now, and a widow at that. Widowhood at her age was no great shock. How often had she seen tears stream down woman's faces and heard their sharp cries when they learned their husbands' bodies were burned far across the sea? It was part of the life they led, knowing that at any moment, fate would step in and take their men. Of course, they'd had children to comfort them. But Gyda….

"We're nearly there, my queen," a Burgundian sailor said, interrupting her dark thoughts.

Gyda smiled at his show of respect, but said, "I am a queen no longer."

Gyda thought back to the day a thin, jeweled crown was placed on her head, signifying her illustrious status. The man next to her, her husband of six years, squeezed her hand and smiled softly.

He had been a good man, her husband, who loved her immensely. He was simple minded and slow witted, but his affection towards Gyda was genuine, and for that she grew to care for him. She had not thought it possible when they first met, for it was immediately clear to her that while her title was to be "wife," her role would be "nursemaid." How her family would have raged if they'd known! They would have deemed him an unfit prince, an unfit husband. A baby stuck in a man's body. Her new countrymen did not share the same Viking sense of honor or pride-they were a Christian kingdom, and believed that Lothair's rule was ordained by God. They did not question the soft-headed prince and went to great lengths to accommodate him.

Gyda had not loved her husband, not in any romantic way, but she cared for him as a friend. His sweet disposition matched her own, and he took great pleasure in making her happy, something she was not used to but grew to appreciate. She told him she loved him once. It was a six months ago, when he was on his deathbed. Sweat dripped from his brow, his lips were cracked and dry and his eyes listlessly wandered around the room, looking but not seeing.

"I love you Gyda," he croaked out. It was a lie to say she loved him back, but he was dying. He needed comfort.

"I love you too."

He smiled and closed his eyes, never to open them again.

A slight jerk woke her from her reverie. They were here. They had landed a ways away from the docks at Kattegat, as per her request. Her company obliged her, though they worse confused expressions. She couldn't explain why, but she was eager to explore her old home, to relearn its forests and animals, its smells and sounds. She did not want ceremony or the pitiful glances she knew would come her way. She would deal with that later, when she arrived on the dock wearing her crown and finest jewels. For a brief moment, she wanted to be little Gyda again. She left the sailors and her escort in the boat and headed off towards the woods, wearing a tattered cloak pulled over head to shield her identity. Not that anyone would recognize her. It had been too long.

Gyda wandered for thirty minutes, losing her way occasionally but using the skills Lagertha had taught her as a child. _Where is the sun? What way does the wind blow? Mark your path._ She passed empty houses along the way, and was alerted by the lack of noises around her. Instinctually, she knew that everyone would be at the Longhouse, home to the King and gathering place for important meetings. She had only lived there a little while, but she was eager to return. She had no other home.

As she approached, Gyda pulled her hood over her head and slipped in through the tent flaps quietly. She was no longer used to such dark, crammed, places, the air thick with smoke and the sound of fire crackling like a whip. It stung her eyes and filled her lungs. Quietly, stealthily, she inched her way forward until she stood behind a woman sitting with her children. No one had noticed her entrance-they were too busy arguing.

As her eyes stopped watering, Gyda took in the sights around her. Her heart swelled with pride when she saw her brother on the throne, looking fearsome and strong and proud, equal parts Ragnar and Lagertha. It was said by everyone that Ragnar feared his sons would outshine him. From looking at Bjorn, Gyda could see that her father's fears would come true. Bjorn's raids had brought vast wealth to the community, and he had started his adventures much younger than Ragnar. Ragnar had been murdered shortly after her husband passed away, thrown into a snake pit by King AElla. His name would pass into shadow soon. It would only be a matter of time before the son eclipsed the father.

Two men stood on either side of Bjorn. The man on his left was tall and with reddish-blonde hair and a long, braided beard. His jaw was firmly set and he looked to be a similar age to Bjorn. The man on his right stood back in the shadows, but Gyda could make out his shape. He was of average height, had dark shaggy hair, broad shoulders and well-muscled arms that were currently crossed over chest. His beard was short and trimmed very close to his face. She could not see the top half of his face. He seemed familiar, yet he did not look like as though he belonged...

"We _will_ avenge our father's death!" Bjorn's voice roared. Furious cries answered back as the men hammered their fists on their chests. It was loud, too loud for Gyda, who had grown used to the quiet civility of court in Burgundy. Despite the noise, there was something comforting about the rage, the passion with which everyone pledged to fight.

"One's week time, then. We will go to England." Bjorn said once the room had settled. If this were Burgundy, thought Gyda, he would need to recite an impassioned speech, inspiring his men to go to war, to lay down their lives for God and for their homeland. But Bjorn was speaking to Vikings.

"Prepare yourselves."

That was all he needed to say.

Her brother stood and the two men-and a young boy she had not seen from her hiding place-followed him. As the dark haired man stepped out of the shadows and into the light, Gyda felt her heart leap into her throat and her chest tighten. She clasped a shaky hand over her mouth to keep from gasping as she marveled at the man who walked past her.

_Athelstan_.

**A/N: Hope you all enjoyed chapter 2! Just so it's clear, in this fic, Gyda is now 23, Bjorn is 24, and Athelstan is 31. **

**Please, please, please, review! I LOVE getting feedback! :)**


	3. Athelstan

**A/N: To all my lovely reviewers, thank you so much! I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

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Athelstan winced as he stepped out from the longhouse. It was already hard to adjust to natural light, especially after being inside for so long. The _thing_ had taken longer than he'd expected, but he did not mind. He enjoyed being back in the longhouse. When Ragnar had first become Jarl and Athelstan was still a slave, they used it as a home. Then Ragnar's ambitions grew, as did his wealth, and he constructed a larger building. He had become more than a jarl-he was a king in his own right, and declared he needed a home for his station. It had the same length as a the longhouse, but had two stories and was finer in its construction. In it, Ragnar displayed his treasures; it sparkled gold and silver and copper. At the time, no one but Ragnar had seen the sense in such a large house, but in time the family became so large that it was necessary. They called it the Great Hall.

As Athelstan brought up an arm to shield himself from the sun, he thought he saw a cloaked figure slip away from the longhouse's side entrance. He furrowed his brow, puzzled, when a boy running toward him caught his attention.

"Her ship has been sighted," the scout breathlessly informed Athelstan.

When Bjorn took his seat on the throne, and named Athelstan his counselor, Athelstan made it his first duty to post scouts along coastline. It was a simple yet effective system; two men at each station, each station a few miles apart. If anything suspicious occurred, one scout would leave the other and run to alert the next pair. In more urgent circumstances, beacons were lit, which served as a warning until news arrived.

Athelstan directed his gaze at Bjorn, who stood a few feet away, next to his adopted brother, Halfdan.

"You heard?" Athelstan asked. Bjorn nodded, turning his attention to the scout. "How far away?"

"Not far. An hour. More if the wind stops."

Bjorn nodded. Gyda had sent word that her husband had died and that his uncles had divided the kingdom. It was no longer safe to stay in Burgundy and she was coming home. They had learned of this months ago, and in the last few weeks, Athelstan had alerted their scouts to watch for Burgundian ships. Time passed, but Gyda had not arrived, and Bjorn begun to worry.

Halfdan slapped Bjorn on the back. "Finally, I shall meet our sister." He smiled charmingly and added, "Perhaps she'll like me better." Bjorn rolled his eyes but laughed as he reentered the longhouse, no doubt to instruct the servants in preparing the feast. Athelstan had nearly forgotten that Gyda had not met Halfdan, or her half-brothers, Ivar, Ragnvald, and Sigurd.

Athelstan could barely remember the events following her departure. He had been so weak after the plague, which had ravaged Kattegat immediately after Gyda had left. It claimed the lives of many, including Siggy and Thyri. It was only a few days after they had burned the last of the bodies, that Ragnar and his men returned. Athelstan would never forget Lagertha's face when Aslaug stepped off the ship, her belly large and swollen with child. At first Athelstan thought Rollo or Floki must have taken her as his wife. But then he saw Bjorn's angered expression and knew that Aslaug was Ragnar's solution on his quest for more sons.

Aslaug was not the only stranger they brought with them; Aslaug's illegitimate younger brothers came as well. They were young; the eldest, Halfdan, was Bjorn's age, while the twins Eric and Agnar were Gyda's age. Ragnar adopted them as his sons, a sign of goodwill to Odin for granting his desires.

The day they arrived was the turning point in all of his relationships with the Lothbroks. His respect for Ragnar weakened-though he was not daft enough to show it-and his respect for Lagertha deepened. What she'd said or done to Ragnar to that day, Athelstan did not know. She was openly hostile and did not speak to anyone but Athelstan or Bjorn for months. Her silence finally ended the night Aslaug went into labor. Whatever her feelings towards the woman who claimed half of her husband, Lagertha tucked them away out of respect for womanhood and new life.

It had been a difficult birth. Athelstan could still remember the screams and sight of blood-soaked cloths. After nearly two days, Ivar finally came into the world. He was a beautiful, with light blonde hair and blue eyes like his father. It was his innocent presence that eased the tension within the home. Things would never be the same between Lagertha and Ragnar, or Bjorn and Ragnar, but they accepted their fates. They adapted; Lagertha in the most unexpected way. She threw herself into educating Athelstan in viking customs and traditions. She taught him how to fight, how to farm, how their politics worked. She became one part older sister, one part mother, and all parts friend. She never gave up on him, even on days when it all seemed hopeless.

"Why must the priest learn to fight?" Ragnar had asked one day with great annoyance, after Athelstan accidentally shot an arrow two inches from his face. Lagertha did not answer him, but rather glared at him fiercely and handed Athelstan another arrow. "Again," she said curtly. She had not said anything, but Athelstan knew the reason why. He was her last chance. Lagertha would raise no more children of her own making, but in Athelstan she saw the opportunity to pass down her knowledge one last time. She channeled all her energy into training him to be the son she failed to bring into the world.

Athelstan did not disappoint her. He molded himself into one of them; he grew in force and strength and became skilled with spears, bows and arrows, swords, axes. He grew eyes in the back of his head, learned to track and ensnare prey. He was fearsome.

Despite his prowess, he had been reluctant to embark on his first expedition. Ragnar insisted he come along, under the pretense that he would use his diplomatic nature to help broker a treaty with a Swedish chieftain. He had promised himself he would not kill, but negotiations went south, and when a soldier took up his sword and lunged at Bjorn, Athelstan did not hesitate to bury his axe in the man's chest.

Later, when the fighting was over and they made camp for the night, Ragnar sat next to him.

"It should be hard," Athelstan said after a while. "It should be the hardest thing in the world, taking someone's life, but it isn't. It was…easy."

Ragnar clasped his shoulder and shook his head. "It was their fate to die. You fought well today, and brought honor to your name…and mine."

Bjorn sat down on the other side of him, holding two drinking horns filled with ale. He pressed one of them into Athelstan's hand. "Drink with me, _bróðir." _Brother_. _Over time they had grown close, an unspoken bond between them to support Lagertha. But that day sealed their friendship, their respect, their bond.

As the years passed, Athelstan made peace with the fact that he was, and always would be, made up of two equal parts. He was English and Norse. He was Christian and Pagan. He was Monk and Warrior. He was Athelstan and he was Lothbrok.

* * *

A short time later, they were back on the dock, dressed in their finest clothes, hair brushed and beards trimmed. A strong wind blew, and the feeling of excitement was palpable; nearly everyone in Kattegat had come to welcome their long lost daughter. Athelstan glanced over at Bjorn who was wringing his hands, eyes darting back and forth across the shoreline. Athelstan laughed, "I have not seen you this nervous since your wedding day." Bjorn glared at him.

"It's been ten years." He sighed, "So much has changed."

"That is life," Athelstan said gently. "She will adapt."

Athelstan looked towards the sky. He was excited to see her. He thought back to the day she left, and how it had pained him to see little Gyda go, all youth and sweetness. He was not nervous to see her again, as Bjorn was. Her gentle soul had calmed and comforted him in those early days. She was in sore need of comfort herself now. If he could aid her in even the smallest way, he would not hesitate.

A general murmur rose from the crowd behind him, and Athelstan settled his gaze towards the sea. The ship had sailed around the bend, the wind violently whipping the sails around. It grew closer and closer. Finally, it docked. Athelstan felt a gentle tug on the hem of his tunic. Bjorn's youngest son Refil stood next to him, holding his arms out. Athelstan picked up the four year old and set him on shoulders, making sure to hold his ankles firmly. If anything were to happen to her son, Bjorn's wife Valka would surely kill him.

In his mission to give Refil a better view, Athelstan had not noticed Gyda being escorted off the ship. He heard cheering and lifted his gaze, expecting to see a young girl with a shy smile.

He had not expected the woman before him. What he saw astonished him. Her presence took his breath away. Her beauty consumed him.

_Gyda_.

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**A/N: Did you catch the Les Miserables reference? ;)**

**Thanks for reading and PLEASE review! I always appreciate ideas, so tell me what you liked and what you'd like to see :)**


	4. Reunion

**A/N: Thanks for your patience everyone! I'm finishing up my MA, hence the lack of updates. I appreciate you sticking with me :). So, this was supposed to be a much longer chapter, but I have limited time to write & edit, so I decided to post the first half. The second part will be chapter 5 and that should be up within a few days. **

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She took his breath away. Gone was the shy girl who sang as she picked wildflowers and whose eyes grew wide as he recalled the tale of David and Goliath. She was tall, almost as tall as he was. Her wavy blonde hair fell to her breasts, which he tried not to notice. Her crown was a golden circlet encrusted with light blue jewels that matched the color of her eyes. It sat regally upon her head. Gyda walked gracefully towards her brother, until her noble restraint gave way to nerves and enthusiasm. She ran the last few feet and threw her arms around his neck. Bjorn laughed and picked her up so that her elegantly adorned feet were lifted off the ground.

Athelstan felt a rough hand smack his shoulder and he looked to Halfdan, who motioned to his mouth. He realized his jaw was agape and that he was staring like a fool. His heart began to beat faster as Gyda was introduced to her new family members. Bjorn's wife Valka kissed her cheeks and embraced her warmly. Refil squirmed above him and Athelstan bent down to let the boy run to his aunt. He joined his older brother, Erik, who held their younger sister, Lagertha. Gyda beamed as she met her nephews and niece, and Bjorn swelled with pride as he showed off his children.

Old Floki, still as spry and mischievous as he was in his youth, patted her head and pinched her nose. He leaned forward and whispered something in her ear. She smiled gratefully, and Athelstan knew Floki had told her how pleased Ragnar would have been to have his daughter him once more.

Halfdan approached her next. Athelstan could not hear what he said, but Gyda grinned and Athelstan suddenly wanted his friend to step away from her. Athelstan had never been jealous of Halfdan, despite the younger's man charm, but watching him make Gyda laugh made him sick to his stomach. Halfdan may have been adopted by Ragnar, but he was not Gyda's brother by blood. Fortunately Ivar, Ragnvald, and Sigurd stepped forward to meet their half-sister. All of Kattegatt fixed their gaze on her then, to see her reaction. The boys, aged ten, eight, and six, were the sons of Ragnar and Aslaug. Gyda greeted them with smiles and hugged each of her brothers. Everyone present let out a sigh of relief.

As Gyda met each new person, she was moving closer and closer to Athelstan. He could hear what was being said now. Refil was practically bouncing up and down as he spoke to his aunt. "…and we live in the Great Hall. Grandfather built it and now you'll live there with us and-"

Bjorn picked up his son and slung him over his shoulder, "You must not talk her ears off, or she will sail back to Burgundy," he jokingly warned his son.

Refil blushed and Gyda insisted she was pleased her nephew was so informative.

Athelstan just stood there like a fool, watching her interact with her family, unable to make his feet step towards her. _Come to me_, he willed her. Finally, she lifted her gaze and locked eyes with him. He felt his heart slam against his ribcage. She too, looked startled, but he supposed it was only because he had changed so much.

Her mouth parted as if to say his name, but no sound came out. Instead she walked toward him with a soft smile on her lips and tears in her eyes.

"Athelstan," she breathed. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he gently hugged her back. He could not help but close his eyes and inhale deeply. She smelled of flowers and the sea.

"I missed you," she whispered into his ear. A tingling sensation washed over his entire body.

Before he could reply, their moment was interrupted by Refil, who yanked at Gyda's dress. She stepped out of their embrace and turned her attention to the little boy, who grabbed her hand and led her away, animatedly resuming his speech about its history and structure. Athelstan did not see it, but as she looked back at him before turning towards the road.

Though Athelstan had been reluctant to let her go, he was grateful for the opportunity to regain his composure. He lagged behind as the party made their way towards the Great Hall. Halfdan lightly smacked his arm, raising his eyebrows and grinning suggestively.

"I see you're glad Gyda is home," he said, not in even attempting to hide the laughter in his voice.

Athelstan glared at his friend, not wanting to hear how this woman turned him into a mute statue. "Watch your tongue," he warned.

"You watch yours," Halfdan countered. "Make sure it stays away from Gyda's, or Bjorn may cut it out."

Athelstan rolled his eyes and punched his friend's shoulder. The two slowly followed the others, walking in silence. That sick feeling would not leave Athelstan's stomach. _It's lust_, he told himself. _You've gone too long without a woman, that is all_. But in his gut, he knew this was not the case. Gyda had bewitched him, and he was not likely to be released from her spell anytime soon.

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**Please review! I'm drowning in thesis revising and reviews make me so happy! :) **


	5. Feast

**Well, I graduated! Thank you everyone who left encouraging words during my thesis revising!**

**Thanks all my lovely reviewers for your support and interest in this fix! **

**NOTE: I'll be traveling for a bit, so it may be a few weeks before I update. Sorry, but I need a break! And if I'm rested, the writing will be better. I've also been meaning to re-read and revise chapters 1-4. Nothing major, just fixing a few things here and there and adding a bit more detail.**

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Gyda pulled her sea-green gown over her head, belted it with a silver chain, and sat down. She let out a slow breath. It was the first time she had been alone since her morning adventure. It was hard to believe it had only been hours since she'd arrived and reunited with her family. With _him_.

In the past, Gyda had thought of him from time to time, wondering where he stood on the line between priest and viking. It was evident now that he'd somehow managed to retain both personas. She closed her eyes and tried to remember the feel of his strong arms around, the mop of dark hair, the blueness of his eyes, slightly darker than her own.

An abrupt knock on the door to her chamber woke Gyda from her thoughts.

"Enter," she said, then immediately felt foolish. Such an authoritative, queenly command. Valka did not seem to mind, and gracefully walked towards her, dressed in a dark blue dress. Rows of gold hung from her neck and a delicate crown sat on her head.

Valka asked her how she liked her chamber. Gyda replied that she liked it very much.

Valka picked up a bejeweled brush, a present Lothair given her when Gyda told him she was with child. Gyda felt a pang in her heart, and instead studied her brother's wife in the mirror. She was tall and thin with milky skin, peppered with freckles. She had strong cheekbones, a small mouth, and green eyes. Gyda thought her very beautiful.

Valka gathered Gyda's hair and sectioned it.

The tongs of the comb gentled touched her scalp, sending tingles down her spine. She closed her eyes again, enjoying the sensation.

"I forgot how wonderful it feels to have someone brush your hair," she murmured.

"It's one of life's great pleasures," Valka agreed. "And you must look your best tonight."

There was something knowing in her tone, and it made Gyda nervous.

"He isn't-Bjorn has not brought suitors for me, has he?"

"No," Valka assured the younger woman. She would not divulge her reasoning for her comment. She continued to brush her sister-in-law's hair in silence.

"Is…has…Athelstan married? Has he a family of his own?"

"No," Valka said, trying to hide a smile. Gyda could not hide hers-it was small; only the corners of her lips twitched, but it reached her eyes and radiated warmth from her face. Valka pretended not to notice. She finished the last section of Gyda's hair and moved to place the young woman's circlet on her brow. Gyda had decided never to wear it after her arrival on the docks that morning. She began to protest.

"I'm no longer-"

"True, but it is beautiful. And you are still a member of a royal family."

Gyda consented with a slight nod. Valka picked it up once more and Gyda watched as as it caught the light of the fire and sparkled. It felt different on her head now. As the two women walked out of her room and towards the feast that awaited them, Gyda realized that it did not feel as heavy as it once did.

* * *

They entered the great hall and Gyda was astonished by the sight laid out before her. A long tables were situated throughout the room, each held an array of culinary delights. There was black bread, oat bread, beer bread, roast lamb and chicken, pork, and wedges of cheese as big as a child's head. Endless platters of stewed plums, salted bacon, lamb, and horse meat. There were apples, mushrooms, onions, raspberries, elderberries, hazelnuts, leeks, and seaweed. Herring, cod, and shellfish provided a potent aroma. Large pitchers of mead, beer, wine, and buttermilk sat on even table.

Men and women alike played a variety of musical instruments, and little children danced around the hall, flowers falling from girls' hair as they bounced around. It was not until the sights and sounds of the feast that Gyda felt she belonged once more. Valked walked to her mother, who sat with her youngest two children, leaving Gyda alone. She smiled and scanned the room for familiar faces.

Bjorn's back was to her, he was throughly engrossed in a conversation with his adopted brother. Halfdan was motioning wildly, and Bjorn's shoulders shook with laughter. Her half-brothers walked up to them, eager to join in and be seen as men. The eldest of them, Ivar, looked so much like Ragnar it shocked Gyda each time she saw him. Just then a blur ran by her, and she knew instinctually it was Refil. He jumped on Athelstan's back, who laughed and reached around to pick the boy up with one arm. Refil, bouncing up and down with every step Athelstan took, laughed and stuck out an arm, pointing the way to the table with roasted chicken.

"There _faðirbróðir_!" he shouted gleefully.

It had been an emotional day for Gyda, and this did not help. She knew that Athelstan was now a respected valued member of their community, that he was her brother's counselor and right-hand man, but it was not until Refil called him _faðirbróðir_-uncle-that Gyda realized how much a part of their family Athelstan had become. Family was a sacred thing in Viking culture-familial names were not taken lightly and boundaries were not crossed. For Athelstan to be addressed this way by the son of the King astounded her, and it made her eyes water and her heart sing.

He turned around just then and caught her staring at him. She blushed and smiled, trying to seem normal. She walked over to them, and sat down. He sat next to her.

"How have you been?" she asked. Gyda wanted so badly to hold his hand as she spoke those words, to show him that she had missed him, that she still cared deeply about him. All she could do was try to communicate it in the tone of her voice. A poor substitute, she thought.

Athelstan smiled. "I've been well. Your brother's been generous in your absence."

"I've heard you say many things about my brother in the past, but the word generous is not one I expected to hear!"

He laughed, "When did you ever hear me say anything about Bjorn?"

"You said it with your eyes," she replied, half teasing, half serious.

He had almost forgotten how he'd been able to communicate things to Gyda with just a look. Bjorn would say something rude or foolish and Athelstan would narrow his eyes towards. She would wink, or smile, or even laugh. She always knew what he was thinking, because she was thinking the same thing.

"I'd nearly forgotten our little talent…"

Gyda studied him now, sitting next to her, looking so powerful and imposing yet holding a faraway look in his eyes. There was a question she wanted to ask him, so very badly. But now was not the time.

Bjorn's son Erik approached them. He looked so much Ragnar it amazed Gyda. True, Erik was only a little boy, but Gyda could see how his features would shape over time-the nose, the jaw, the bright blue eyes-yes, he would take after Ragnar. She glanced down at Refil, sitting contentedly in Athelstan's lap. He took after his mother with his dark hair, freckles, and green eyes. From across the room, Gyda spied Laggy, bouncing happily on Valka's lap. How fortunate, Gyda thought, that she looked like her namesake. Gyda felt a pang in her heart, looking at the baby.

"I haven't yet asked how you've been all these years." He paused. "It seems strange though, doesn't it?"

"Summing up one's life in the past ten years?" she asked wryly. "It does. But I can attempt it, if you like."

Athelstan nodded as he grasped a pitcher of mead and proceeded to fill her cup full. The little he did know about Gyda's life was sad, and felt she should have liquid consolation. As he handed her the cup, she began to talk.

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They sat for hours, eating, drinking, sharing their stories. There were interruptions of course; Halfdan drunkenly sang war songs and reenacted Athelstan's battle prowess. Refil left them in search of sweets, and Gyda was asked to hold the baby when Valka needed a moment to sit and eat without having a child on her hip. Athelstan watched as Gyda tenderly stroked her niece's cheek. Made more confidant by the alcohol, Athelstan reached over and squeezed Gyda's hand. She looked up, and understood that he knew. Her babies. All dead. But there was something in Athelstan's eyes that comforted her. People looked at her with pity, or worse, fear-afraid she was cursed and it might taint them. Athelstan looked sad, but there was something else in his gaze. Gyda, who was normally so good at reading faces-had been so adept at reading his-was lost. But whatever that mystery emotion was behind his eyes, she knew part of it was concern. So she smiled, as if to tell him all was well.

Their moment was interrupted by Bjorn and Valka, who had just returned from putting the children to bed. It did not escape Gyda's notice that as her brother sat down, Athelstan subtly let go of her hand. Halfdan, who had just sat down next to Athelstan, noticed as well. He wiggled his eyes at his friend and opened his mouth, ready to tease, when Athelstan grabbed an apple from the table and firmly placed it in Halfdan's mouth. Halfdan glared at him, but ate the apple all the same.

Bjorn threw an arm around his sister's shoulders, slightly drunk, and muttered at how unfair it was that she should arrive just as they were about to leave for England. Gyda saw that the men's eyes darkened at this statement. It was unusual for them to stay silent at the prospect of crossing the sea. Normally there were roars and cries of excitement. But they would not sail for riches or women or new knowledge. They would sail for revenge.

"Later," Athelstan said to Bjorn. He motioned towards Gyda with his mug, "Tonight is for celebrating."

Bjorn pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes. Part of him wanted to warn Athelstan. He was the king now, and no one-save his wife-was allowed to talk him in such a way. He permitted Athelstan to get away with it every once in while, but in only in casual settings like these-with family, over food and drink.

"Well said," Valka offered, seeing her husband tense. "Your plans will be set in the morning." She sighed and rubbed her temples. "Speaking of morning, it will be here soon. Goodnight everyone."

She squeezed Bjorn's shoulder as she stood, a simultaneous show of affection and a silent order for him to follow her. Bjorn drained the last of his ale and caught up to his wife. With Bjorn's retirement, the feast had officially ended. One by one, the remainder of the party went home, though a few drunks lay about the hall, fast asleep. Halfdan caught the eye of a serving girl, and as they left, Athelstan realized that he and Gyda were alone. As he pressed his mug to lips he heard her soft voice.

"Tell me what happened."

Athelstan's eyes widened, and forced himself to meet her gaze. Gyda's look was commanding, aided on by the crown she wore.

"Tell you what?" He murmured into his cup. He knew full well what she was asking, but he had no desire to tell her.

She took a deep breath. "Tell me how my mother died."

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	6. Lagertha

**Dearest readers, I apologize for staying away so long! I graduated, then left for a trip to Great Britain! It was phenomenal, and I've been a bit depressed since arriving back home. **

***I haven't edited this chapter, so expect minor changes later. I didn't you all to have to wait any longer than you already have. Thanks for your patience!**

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_"Tell me how my mother died."_

Athelstan had not spoken since those words passed from Gyda's lips. He'd stared at her wearily, almost annoyed. Setting his cup down on the table with more force than he'd meant to, Athelstan stood up and nodded towards the door, a silent signal for Gyda to follow him.

She sauntered after him slowly, careful not to seem overly eager, but every hair on her body stood up as they walked out of the hall and towards Athelstan's chambers. His room was on the opposite side of the Great Hall as her's. It seemed that familial rooms occupied the right side while important-single-members of Bjorn's council occupied the left. The room was of a fair size, with a large fireplace and numerous furs and quilts adoring the furniture. Gyda let her eyes roam the walls, mystified as light from the fire danced across the metal of axes and swords.

Athelstan walked to a shelf and picked up a large, leather-bound book. He sighed heavily before turning back to her.

"Sit, please." He motioned to the bed.

Gyda hesitated, but then saw that Athelstan was dragging a chair over to the bed. Settled, she sat down. He sank into the chair across from her. The firelight illuminated the text he had so carefully scrawled across the once-blank pages.

"Is that-is that a journal?"

"Of sorts." He muttered. His tired eyes quickly scanned the pages. Finally, they settled and he leaned back in his chair. He began to read.

The story of Lagertha's death-and by extension, Aslaug's-started with the mention of Ragnar's increasing paranoia. Fearful of his son's (biological and adopted) future fame and glory, Ragnar appointed a man named Eysteinn Beli as king of the newly obtained Sweden, with the caveat that he protect the land from his sons. Beli agreed to do so. Things were peaceful until Ragnar's adopted sons-Asluag's bastard brothers-Eric and Agnar arrived in Sweden, demanding that Beli give them control of the kingdom and his daughter's hand in marriage to Eric. Beli responded with violence, and after a valiant fight, the brothers were slain.

After hearing of their fate, Lagertha, Aslaug, and their sons vowed revenge. Their sons went in ships, but the women rode across the land, 1500 warriors strong. They were a fearsome family to behold. They wielded their weapon as if they were natural extensions of their body. They showed no mercy. No emotion. Amongst the opposition, rumors flew from frighted tongues that they did not fight mortals, but the gods and goddesses themselves.

On the third morning of the battle, it became clear that Beli and his fortress would fall. He requested a meeting with Lagertha and Aslaug, feigning surrender. When the moment came to hand over his sword, he sliced off Aslaug's head with a quick blow. It flew straight through her neck, cutting her head clean off. Yet Beli did not lower his sword after that-Lagertha had been standing next to Aslaug, and the sword dug into her neck.

Athelstan had stopped reading a while ago, rather he recounted the story from memory. But he was choking on his words now, struggling not to cry, not to dwell on his heartache. Had Gyda's mind not been reeling, she might have reached out to comfort him, but she could focus on nothing.

Finally, Athelstan closed the book and handed it to her. Gyda was reluctant to accept it-she did not need it, a physical reminder of her mother's death. But then logic seized her mind and she recognized that Athelstan would not be so cruel as to taunt her something like that. She took it from him and let the weight of thetome rest in her hands for a few moments. Finally, she opened the cover and her eyes skimmed the first few pages.

She nearly cried with gratitude. He had recorded everything. The day she left. The plague that took so many lives, including Siggy and Thyri's. Ragnar's new wife. Ragnar's adopted sons, Halfdan, Eric, Agnar. The births her half-brothers. Rollo's betrayal. Raids, wars, harvests. The first time Athelstan killed a man.

He even wrote of the births and deaths of Gyda's children. Son, stillborn. Daughter, died age three days. Daughter, stillborn. Son, stillborn.

Gyda forced down the lump in throat and reached out her hand.

"May I?" she whispered.

He nodded silently, and handed her his ink and quill. In viking culture, children were not named until they were nine days old. None of hers had lived that long and therefor were not given names, not by her or her Burgundian husband. With shaking hands, Gyda scribed the names of her babies, never before spoken, never written down.

Eileifr.

Britta.

Ylva.

Hakon.

Gyda put down the quill and stepped back, picturing each of their faces as she read their names. Tears spilled from her eyes and she turned to burry her face in Athelstan's neck. He tensed at first, then, slowly, he encircled his arms around her.

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